


What you wish for

by randomalia (spilinski)



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4225482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilinski/pseuds/randomalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The smile is familiar to Bush, it's strikes off a memory of those hot, godforsaken days at Samana, when everything they did was a mistake under the captain's gaze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What you wish for

**Author's Note:**

> Written for black_hound, with the prompt Captain Kennedy/Bush. I'd say this is set a significant time post-Retribution in the movies and possibly pre-Flying Colours in the books...in any case, Bush remains Hornblower's lieutenant and Kennedy has been promoted.

It's luck of some kind, that puts them in each others' way again. Bush is washing down the last of his mutton with a pleasingly good ale when the chair opposite scrapes back and he looks up to see Kennedy standing there.

"Mr Bush," he says, his words as fine as ever, his eyes bright amidst their creases. "This is unexpected. May I join you?"

Bush rises out of his chair. "Of course, sir," he says. "Will you take a drink?"

At Kennedy's nod Bush looks round for a serving girl and gestures with his cup. He sits again, straighter this time, and finds himself looking at Kennedy's face. He drops his gaze to the worn tabletop. It _is_ an unexpected meeting — this place is rougher around the edges than most; not usually frequented by men of rank and fortune, such as may be — Kennedy is hardly known for taking prizes. But he's respectable, as far as Bush is concerned.

They talk a little, mostly Kennedy, mostly about his ship and her crew, that business with the blockade. When Bush replies he doesn't forget the epaulets shining gold on Kennedy's shoulders, and when Kennedy asks after Hornblower, Bush is able to report he is in good health, and was called to the Admiralty not three days ago. Kennedy has not seem him in quite some time, he says. Far longer than he realised.

They take another mug of ale each and Bush watches Kennedy eye the serving girl, though there's no heat in it. At last Kennedy inquires and discovers the lack of rooms available, and tells Bush he shall have to go along to the Sail and Anchor to try his fortune there.

"They're full up as well, sir," Bush tells him, shaking his head. "I heard it here from a lieutenent. The Hart, too. You're late getting in," he observes.

"Yes, I did think so." Kennedy smiles faintly, like he's smiling at himself. "I thought it worth a try: I've not been ashore for many months."

The smile is familiar to Bush, it's strikes off a memory of those hot, godforsaken days at Samana, when everything they did was a mistake under the captain's gaze. Maybe that's what pushes him to make the offer; they were fellow officers, once, despite the fact that Kennedy's gone on to Post Captain and a ship of his own, almost everything that Bush might desire for himself.

"I've taken a room here," Bush says. "You're welcome to it, sir, if you should like. It would be nothing to share."

"Good man," Kennedy replies, and Bush is pleased he spoke.

Upstairs, in the room, Kennedy set aside his hat and cloak with care. He looks at Bush with hesitant eyes, and Bush considers and finds himself in the mood to oblige. No reason not to, he thinks.

So he lets Kennedy back him slowly against the wall and kiss him on the mouth. The kiss is unexpected, if nothing else; Bush grunts in surprise but he opens up against the soft push of Kennedy's tongue. He doesn't ever do this, kissing. That's for lovers and young folk. But while Kennedy does it slow, it's not gentle: he licks into Bush's mouth with a hunger, steady and implacable, and for Bush it's easy to give this little, strange obedience.

They tumble onto the bed like younger men, Kennedy pushing aside linen and wool, Bush making his legs into a cradle for Kennedy's hips. It's good and warm, though every now and then he catches a certain way of moving, a certain pause that tells him Kennedy's thinking, like a midshipman trying to learn something new. Under Kennedy's hands he's a much taller man.

Bush feels it too, when he takes the measure of Kennedy's shoulders: they're broader than he supposed. Stronger, and when Kennedy dips his head and bites _that_ way, Bush remembers how Hornblower had arched, and pressed his lips tight together to hold in the undignified moan, and how Bush had not bit him again to be kind, even knowing there was no shame in it, even seeing how good it was.

Bush is not so proper: he curses and sweats and gets the taste of Kennedy on his tongue.

When the early light comes in they both rouse and dress. They call for hot water and ease around each other in the small space, speaking little until at last Kennedy says, "I do regret, Mr Bush, that Horatio's assistance could not be extended twice. Certainly there are those more deserving —" He stops and looks away, looks down to the hat now held safe in his hands.

Bush thinks there are a lot of deserving men in the service — and a lot undeserving. But if there's anyone who knows the right way to go about this business, it's Hornblower, and Bush can't fathom the notion of him getting it wrong. Besides, no soul gets everything he could ask for. Here's proof of that in this room.

He buttons his jacket and looks out the small, grubby window. Down at the docks he can see the flags flying, rippling in the wind, and he has a fierce yearning to be out there, feeling the honest cold on his face. "Fresh airs from the South, if I'm not mistaken," he says. "Best get a meal squared away before the rain comes in, sir."

"Yes," Kennedy says. "Well. I think I shall go straight on to the dockyard. It was a pleasure to see you again, Mr Bush."

It seems an odd thing to say, given the circumstances, but then Kennedy is full of odd things and Bush can tell he's sincere. "And you, sir."

Kennedy smiles. He puts his hat on and swings the door behind him, and Bush watches him go.


End file.
